Living Life in Hueco Mundo
by Molebeam
Summary: Ever wonder what Hueco Mundo is like as seen from the eyes of an outspoken and walked-all-over Arrancar? A satirical tell-all of what you don't see in the story. 99.9% headcanon. Re-uploaded and unchanged.
1. Chapter 1

**Right, this story again. Apparently got all butthurt over a word in the description and ergo, this story got caught up in that purge a couple months back. So, here it is again, just as I left it, for your viewing pleasure once more. Enjoy~**

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**Chapter 1: An Introduction**

Ladies and gentlemen, Soul Reapers and Hollows alike, welcome to the pseudo-diary of my life and experiences in Hueco Mundo. My name is Desz Belleking. Now, keep in mind that these are my own thoughts and opinions, and are in no way meant to demean or slander the name of Lord Aizen, Las Noches, or the Espada.

Oh, who am I kidding? That's exactly why I'm writing this.

Well, in any case, please enjoy this rare glimpse into the life of your typical Mary Jane Arrancar. I'll be seeing you all in Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Grimmjow**

Grimmjow howeverthehellyouspellhislas tname is the 6th Espada, and, quite frankly, a complete ass. A very loud, very scary, very attractive ass. Most people tend to think "bahh, he's not so bad. He seems like a nice enough guy.", but those people have never _met_ him.

Around Las Noches, no one's really too fond of him. And from personal experience, it's not hard to imagine why. One time, for no reason at all, he cornered me in the hall, pulled on my hair, shoulder checked me into a wall, and walked away laughing. I half-expected him to steal my lunch money, too, but then I remembered... we don't use currency in Hueco Mundo.

I've learned a couple strange things about him:

Number 1: He doesn't like when Nnoitra calls him a "kitty-kitty".

Number 2: He _really _doesn't like when you try and pet him on the head...like a kitty-kitty.

Number 3: He pouts. I am dead serious, the man pouts. Usually when he doesn't get his way or someone prevents him from using his _Resurrección. _

However, deep, deep, deep down, somewhere in that twisted little heart of his, he knows how to have fun. It's rare, and extremely hard to glimpse, but he can make even the best of us laugh. For example:

One day, I was allowed the privilege of auditing an Espada's meeting, with several fellow _fracción._ We all sat quietly in the back, out of sight and out of mind, while Lord Aizen lectured and discussed mostly minor subjects. Somewhere along the way, Ulquiorra brought up the fact that Grimmjow was hiding contraband from the World of the Living in his room. I was tired and only half-listening, but the word "hair gel" came up a couple of times.

After Ulquiorra's accusation, the room fell silent and all eyes fell on Grimmjow. Even from way in the back of the room, far from him and far from the table they sat at, I could feel the loathing radiating off of him in waves. But he simply picked up his mug of tea, took a calm sip...and spit it all over Ulquiorra.

The table erupted in laughter, with Nnoitra's obnoxious screeches being the loudest of all. Those who weren't laughing, namely Harribel, Baraggan, Starrk, and Zommari, were grinning in amusement. I had to bite my own hand in order to keep quiet, but on the inside, I was in hysterics. The other Arrancar around me were, too.

After a few seconds, Lord Aizen held up his hand and everyone fell deathly silent. He gave Grimmjow a stern reprimand, but that was as far as it went. The meeting was then adjourned and we all filed out through the door and went on with our lives. Though, I don't think anyone really forgot that day.

So, all in all, Grimmjow is undeniably attractive, while simultaneously an undeniable jerk-off with a freaky obsession with an orange-haired Substitute Soul Reaper. And yes, I would indeed hit that...with my Zanpakuto.

Just kidding, he would slit my throat and turn me into a Desz-skin leather jacket.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Nnoitra**

It's extremely hard to miss the 5th Espada. _Extremely _hard: the man stands 7 feet tall, wears an eye patch, screeches like a jackal when he talks, and when he's not preoccupied with maiming people, he's most likely trying to hump something or other.

It wouldn't be too far off to label him as a sex offender. Also, I'm pretty sure he's illiterate.

The thing that drives most of us here crazy, though, is his complete and utter chauvinism. Every day, he's flying off the handle at some poor girl, just because "she looked at me funny". So of course I was also a victim of his abuse. Why is it always me?!

For the most part, I act as a messenger/errand girl around Las Noches. In fact, I'm more of an odd-jobs than anything. On this particular day, I was relaying an important note from Szayel Aporro to Ulquiorra concerning something or other in the lab. Happy to be of service again, I was in a damn fine mood as I carried out my little mission and wasn't worried about anything bad in the slightest.

Until I passed through Nnoitra's part of the complex.

Just my luck, he was prowling the corridors with a sour look on his face in what seemed to be a bad temper. I didn't particularly feel like being curb-stomped or raped that morning, so I kept my head down and tried to hurry on my was as quick as I possibly could without running. Too bad he saw me anyway.

"Oi, you!"

I'm going to be killed.

"Where d'ya think you're goin'?"

Goodbye, cruel world. "Uh, s-sir, I'm supposed to b-be delivering this note to Ulquiorra-sama upon the orders of S-Szayel Aporro-sama."

"Ah? From that fruity little pink haired bitch? Gimme that damn note." Before I could say otherwise, he ripped it out of my hands and studied it with a scowl, then crumpled it up and threw it at my face. It bounced off my forehead and I caught it just before it fell. He reached over and tugged sharply on my hollow's mask; a ram's horn and skull fragment on the left side of my head. I bit my tongue and winced.

"I dunno who you are, but I don't like th' way you come waltzin' on in here like you own the place. Y'damn women need to learn where you stand in the world, and that's under us men. I don't wanna see you ever show yer face around here again. Got it?" He yanked my head around for emphasis.

"Y-y-yes, sir."He shoved me back forcefully and laughed as he stalked off. Not wanting to spend any more time in this hellhole, I used _sonido _to get out as quick as possible. I managed to deliver the crumpled little message and then promptly went home to curl up under the covers for a while.

Pretty shitty, huh? Nowadays, we're more or less on speaking terms, but that doesn't mean I don't like to yank his chain every once in a while. I guess he's not so bad once you get used to his constant verbal abuse.

Oh, dammit, don't tell me I'm falling for this asshole.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch. 4 – Szayel Aporro**

I really shouldn't be saying anything bad about Szayel Aporro-sama because technically I'm his _fracción. _Don't get me wrong; I have nothing against him, it's just that I have something against him.

Like all the rest of his _fracción, _I was created, not born. So I guess in a really creepy, fucked-up way, he's my father. I don't want to think about that.

Very few of my "siblings" looked as human as I do, but Szayel Aporro-sama told me once that there was a purpose for that. I'm his guinea pig, to put it bluntly; a living model of a standard Arrancar. I come in handy for medical research most of the time: testing poisons, artificial limb growth, hollow mask replacement, you name it, I've been through it. Usually, I don't mind the little things. It's when he starts sticking things where they don't belong and drugging me for days on end that I have a problem with it. Does that sound creepy? Good, because it is.

Sorry, I'm making him out to be some sort of sexually repressed doctor, but he's really not. For the most part. When he's not trying to cut off my fingers and time how long they take to regenerate, he's actually really pleasant, compassionate, even. He doesn't mind if you approach him with a question or ask for a little bit of advice. Even better, he tells the honest truth: no beating around the bush and sugar-coating things. He's almost like a gay best friend, minus the whole gay thing.

…On second thought, that's still up for debate. To quote Nnoitra, Szayel Aporro-sama is a "fruity little pink-haired bitch". There can't really be much argument over that. But, he's more than that. He's a teacher, an innovator, a confidant, and as unlikely as it sounds, a helper. I'm not too sure where Las Noches would be without him.

I think I'll stick around as his _fracción _for a little longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – Zommari and Aaroniero**

For the sake of convenience, this time I'll discuss both the 7th and 9th Espada, respectively.

First off: Zommari Rureaux. He's sort of shrouded in mystery, and I don't think any of us other than Lord Aizen know much about him. But if I'm 100% sure of one thing, it's this:

He looks like a fish. And I'm not just saying that derogatively, I mean that, given the chance, I would shrink him down and make him swim around in Aaroniero's head for the rest of eternity, feeding him crushed up crackers 2-3 times a day. And we would be best friends.

I'm kidding about that last part. We wouldn't be best friends. In fact, I'd probably forget about him in a day and he'd be forced to eat Aaroniero's heads out of starvation, thereby causing a big ol' clusterfuck that nobody really needs.

The bottom line is this, I can't take Zommari seriously. I'll pass him in the halls and have to mentally kick my own ass to keep from laughing at his silly face. It's so bad that if I start to think about it, I burst into fits of giggle-snorts and the people around me give me "what the fuck?" looks. And of course, I can't explain why I'm wheezycrysmiling, because then I picture his face again and…eeheeheeheehee!

Is it racist? Maybe. Most likely. Do I particularly care? Ehhhh, nope. Sorry, fishy-face.

Now, on to Aaroniero. It's my own personal opinion, but I think that he and Fishy-face were both beat with the same Freaky Stick at the time of their creation. Zommari's not as bad; at least he looks somewhat human. Aaroniero, on the other hand…well, the best way I can describe him is man with a head like a glowing, dildo fish tank, which, in any other circumstance, would be pretty damn impressive. But when that dildo fish tank walks, wears clothes, and talks in the voice of a small rodent hopped up on amphetamines...ok, you know what, Lord Aizen needs to draw the line somewhere.

The part I've never really understood is why there are two heads, and how a damned _Gillian_ can outrank me. A Gillian! As in, the big stupid Hollows that would probably eat themselves if they…oh, that's right. They already do.

Las Noches is _so_ fucking corrupt.


	6. Chapter 6

**And now for the rest~**

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**Ch. 6 – Ulquiorra**

Now, here's an Arrancar I don't mind much. Actually, I kinda like the guy. The fourth Espada is quiet, cold, and calculating, and such a combination makes him distant towards others. That means he doesn't bother anyone; no butting unnecessarily into others' business, no obnoxious interjections of his opinions, no moral lecturing. He pretty much just does his own thing.

Also, he kinda looks like a lizard.

Now, I happen to know that he has a sizable legion of female fans in Hueco Mundo. I guess it's not hard to see why; he's relatively attractive, though not my type. I mean, he _really_ looks like a reptile, with his green, unblinking eyes, pale white skin, and apparent lack of eyebrows. But, maybe I'm being too harsh. After all, Ulquiorra was the first Espada I'd ever met outside of Szayel Aporro-sama. The details are a little hazy, but I remember the gist of it…

I was relatively fresh out of the, er, test tube at the time. Szayel had allowed me to venture outside the lab for a little while, and, being as naïve and clueless as I was, I was determined to make the most of it.

It went about as well as you'd expect. I got lost in some place dark and menacing, all by myself without a clue how to get back home. After I'd spent a while running around in circles of terror and beating my head against the wall screaming "WHY, GOD, WHY?!", I did the only other thing I could possibly do in that situation: fetal position.

I'm not sure how much time I spent curled up against the wall, rocking back and forth as I murmured forlornly to myself. I clung to the single scrap of hope that someone would get worried and go looking for me. Which they didn't. Why? Because everyone in Hueco Mundo is a complete dick.

That's when I heard footsteps. _Real _footsteps, and I was sure I wasn't hallucinating! They got closer and closer until they stopped somewhere short of my pitiful, fetal positioning form.

"What are you doing, woman?" The voice that spoke to me was emotionless and judging. I slowly lifted my head up to get a glimpse the person who was (hopefully) my savior. He looked to be my height, dressed in a neat, white uniform with a Zanpakuto on is hip. Shaggy black hair nearly brushed the base of his neck and the remains of a horned hollow mask covered the left side of his head. His hands were tucked nonchalantly into his pockets. My first thought: _this guy is one bad-ass motherfucker._

"I, um, I got lost. Sir," I managed to squeak out. Great. I was succeeding in looking like a total loser in front of Prince Kick-your-ass Charming.

"Lost?" His face was blank, but the disgust in his voice was noticeable. "Then come with me. You belong to someone, correct?"

Belong? Excuse me; do I look like someone's damn carry-on to you? "Yes, sir."

"Who?"

"S-Szayel Aporro-sama."

He didn't respond, turned on his heel and continued on his way. I scrambled to my feet and followed after him. _Okay, Desz, time to redeem yourself. Remember: sexy, calm, and confident._

"Er, thank you for bringing me back. May I ask your name?"

"Ulquiorra." His answer was brutally blunt.

"Ulquiorra-san, I'm grateful for your assistance. I'd like to pay you back for-"

"Don't bother. I'm not doing this out of kindness. _Fracción _don't belong in this area of Las Noches."

_Touché._ "Oh. I see." And thus began the incredibly long, incredibly awkward, and incredibly silent walk back. I was almost tempted to casually point out the green tear tracks on his face, but my better judgment kicked in at the last second and warned me that he _probably_ wasn't in the mood for that right now. I was sort of bummed; I mean come on, that would've made for an amusing tissue joke, right?

He delivered me to the front of Szayel's lab and turned to leave without another word.

"Wait!" I called out before he could disappear on me.

"What do you want?" He gave me a cold glance over his shoulder.

"If _fracción _aren't allowed in that part of the complex, then what were you doing over there?"

The hem of his white jacket _fwish-_ed importantly as he strode off. "It's not off-limits to the Espada."

My jaw dropped so fast it nearly ripped off. Espada. An Espada just brought my stupid, lost ass back home.

I should have just killed myself when I was sure I'd never be found again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ch. 7 – Yammy and Starrk**

For those of you poor suckers still reading this, you better bet your ass I'm not done bitching yet. Today, I'm talking about Espadas 10 and 1; Yammy and good ol' Starrk.

Yammy comes first, because I have _way_ more to say. I know, I give my superiors a lot of crap. A _lot_ of crap. But for some, it's totally deserved (cough cough GrimmjowandNnoitra cough cough). Yammy happens to be one of them.

There's no way to dance around with this one: Yammy is completely stupid. As in, hopelessly, completely, irrevocably brain-dead. I'm sure his big, fat head houses a brain the size of gnat shit. Maybe we'd all be inclined to feel a little more sympathy for the big lummox if he wasn't so blatantly rude and…rude. Seriously, I'm not sure if there's a word in existence that could accurately describe this man to a T.

Because I have no better way to spend my free time other than picking on my pseudo-comrades, I've concocted a hilariously ingenious plan for our resident brain-dead fool (excluding Wonderweiss, of course).

I call this plan of mine: Operation Caveman. Hear me out.

Wouldn't it be great if, for even just one day, Yammy started speaking in short choppy sentences? If he wanted food, he would yell "Yammy HUNGRY!" Or if he was unhappy with something, it would be "Yammy DO NOT LIKE!" And, my personal favorite, "Yammy AAAAANGRY!" Also, just for posterity and well-needed emphasis, he would bang his fists down on the nearest flat surface, preferably grunting out "Unga, unga!"

Cut me some slack here, it's a work in progress. I'm using raw steaks as a means of positive reinforcement. Aww, he's kinda like a big, stupid, cocky puppy. A really ugly one.

**Starrk**

Because I've hardly ever seen this guy in my time at Las Noches, I can't say much more about him other than the fact that he has what is possibly the most badass name in the history of Hueco Mundo. He's the epitome of indifference; on more than one occasion I've heard others whispering amongst one another, trash-talking him because apparently they think he's "unfit to hold the position of Primera Espada." On the contrary, my friends. I find him extremely awesome.

It must be nice to just wake up in the morning, not give a fuck, roll over, and fall asleep again. I think his momma breastfed him whiskey as a baby. Or is that even physically possible with Arrancars? Huh, I'll make it a point to ask Szayel later.

Yeahhh, maybe not.

Well, in any case, I'd like to meet Coyote Starrk (I love this name so much), even one time. Just so I can clasp my hands together at my bosom, stare into his eyes, and with a look of pure admiration, say….

"Please sign my rack?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Ch. 8 – Harribel and Barragan**

**Harribel**

Why oh why am I not her _fracción?!_ Ladies and gentleman, I belong _there, _not stuck being some pink haired fruitloop's scientific guinea pig! But I'm getting ahead of myself; I shouldn't just jump into a topic and start whining incessantly.

Harribel is the third Espada and currently, the only woman holding a position as such. On the scale of pure badass, however, she's more or less tied for first with Starrk. In my mind, Harribel embodies everything a female warrior should be; calm, cool, quiet, collected, and attractive. I guess you could sorta break her down like this: Starrk's laid-back yet lethal appearance, Ulquiorra's disposition and mannerisms, and Grimmjow's rugged good looks.

Yep. She's my idol. I won't even attempt to downplay it. In fact, I can't even bring myself to say anything humorously degrading about her. Her _fracción, _on the other hand…well, let's just say we all hate each other's guts. So, we'll move on.

**Barragan**

I want this man to die. I want this man to die. I want this man to die. I want this man to die.

Do I have your attention? Good. I'm about to get real rant-y up in here.

Barragan is the (totally undeserving) 2nd Espada but undisputedly _número uno _on the Total Raging Dickbag scale. They don't make superiority complexes much bigger than his. I'm talking about, of course, the fact that he was previously the "God-King of Hueco Mundo" and apparently refuses to acknowledge the fact that Lord Aizen's now in charge of things.

Now, if _I _were in charge (and oh, how I wish), I would order his arms and legs to be cut off and he would be put in a sort of pseudo-nursing home. Just with less friendly nurses and more iron chains and locks.

My unadulterated loathing of this man is very justified. Despite, of course, the fact that he's arrogant, prone to showing off, braggish, stubborn as all hell, and cocky, he was mean to me. Several times, actually.

The first and most upsetting was a perfectly fine day, on which I was taking a leisurely stroll through Las Noches, and came upon Szayel Aporro-sama and Barragan, discussing something or other. Of course, I bowed first to Szayel. Barragan pretty much flipped out. The details aren't very important, but he yelled at me for "showing him disrespect" and something about "his kingdom" and "you wench, have you no idea who I am?". And then, as I'm trying to get a word in edgewise to apologize, he damn near kills me by flaunting his spiritual pressure before storming off.

I'm quite sure I don't need another example. As you can see, Barragan is mean to me and I want him to die. Did I mention that already? I'm think I have. It doesn't hurt to get a point across.

Oh, and a little something else? I've slept with, like, most of his _fracción._ Take THAT you damned old geezer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – Aizen and co.**

Ah, our great Lord Aizen…and his freakish male posse. Who are they, again? Oh yeah, Gin and Tosen.

Okay, now this is the part where any reasonable person would pull the plug and end the story for the sake of, uh, _not being assassinated. _But, seeing as I have no shame and the decision making skills of a Menos, I'm gonna just go ahead and openly bash my own leader. May the mortal gods have mercy on my soul.

Hoo, boy. Okay. Lord Aizen. Lemme first say that his hair drives me up a goddamn wall. I mean _really, _can you just PLEASE cut that little dangly thingie off? You know, the THING THAT HANGS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE ALL THE TIME? Maybe I'm just nit-picking, or maybe I'm just downright insane, but for the love of all that is Hollowfied, is it so hard to simply, like, keep it back with a cute little hair clip? Or slick it back with the rest of his hair? Really, Lord Aizen, it's time to face the music.

Now that I've got _that_ out of the way, I'll go over how I first met him and all that good whatnot. I had yet to be "born" when he took over Las Noches. Actually, my fellow _fracción_ and I were only created shortly after Szayel Aporro became the _Octava _Espada, which wasn't all that long ago.

I'll confess one thing right up front; I've never been fond of Aizen. Ever. I don't agree with the way he does things around here, nor do I particularly like the fact that he is/was a Soul Reaper. Same goes for his cronies. I know full-well that he considers us Arrancar nothing more than tools…and it's infuriating. I think I'd probably stage a complex mutiny if he wasn't so damn sexy. And powerful. But mostly sexy. Mmmm.

I now see why those psycho skanks Loly and Menoly are so overly obsessed with him.

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the other two: you know, Gin and Tosen. I have plenty more to say about them, like…

I'm seriously serious about this; I'm 99.99999% Ichimaru is keeping young children locked up in his room. And it scares me. Also, he has dead, soulless eyes of the devil and the perpetual, leering smile of a candy store pedophile.

Kinda like that one Pokémon, Slowpoke, except he walks, talks, and carries a sword. Which somehow makes it, like, a thousand times worse.

What is it that those humans always say? Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife, and hide yo' husband, cuz he's rapin' errybody out there. But mostly hide your kids, because he likes them the best.

And Tosen? Well, er, he just plain freaks me the fuck out. He reminds me of that one Robocop thing that's so big with the humans from America. No wait, actually he's _exactly _like Robocop.

Although I'm pretty sure Robocop didn't have a mentally retarded boy sidekick. *cough cough* Wonderweiss. *cough cough*.

On second thought, a mutiny might not be such a bad idea after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – Nope**

Let me start by saying it's been a bad week here in Hueco Mundo. A terrible week. In a nutshell, I'd say that things have gone from Las Noches to Shitsville in just a few days. And, seeing as I've run out of Espada to make fun of, I have come to a personal consensus, in which I will write about the things I hate. And there are many.

I hate Aizen's color scheme. Why are him and his goons the only ones who can wear other colors? What if I want to dress up as a pink fairy princess but I can't because we're all forced to wear stupid white and black all the time? Way to go, Lord Dumbass. Way to think outside the box.

I hate when stupid Lumina and equally stupid Verona bounce their fat little asses into my room and touch my stuff. It's MY stuff. Nothing is worse than coming home after a hard day of being poked, prodded, surgically cut open, and disemboweled in the name of science and finding two obese little jelly beans rummaging through your underwear drawer, throwing your lacy delicates all over the place. Lumina, Verona, have you no shame?! And yes, there have been times where I have drop-kicked them out of windows, down extensive flights of stairs, and through doorways. They've gotten stuck on more than one occasion.

I hate Nnoitra's laugh. Pretty sure that one speaks for itself.

I hate getting stuck behind Barragan's _fracción _Poww in the hall. Why? How 'bout _you_ try being trapped behind a 13 foot tall, half-ton menace that moves at the speed of "I'm gonna walk this slow just to be a dick". I _dare _you to not let it bug you.

I hate Loly's outfit.

I hate Menoly's haircut.

I hate anything to do with Loly and Menoly.

I hate that everyone is so obsessed with that human Orihime. Really, what's so special about her? She looks just like any old human to me. Though I'm curious; was she just as completely useless in the World of the Living as she is here in Hueco Mundo?

I hate being looked down upon because I'm a woman. I'd bet my metaphorical left nut that I could keep up with one of the Espada…like Zommari, or maybe even Grimmjow. Alright, on second thought, I take it back.

I hate the color orange. That said, I also hate Gantenbainne's afro.

I hate Las Noches. I wanna be a Soul Reaper instead.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 – The Sweet Smell of "We're-all-fucking-screwed"**

Ladies and gentlemen, it's official; we are all going to die. Why? I'll make it short, sweet, and to the point:

Our brilliant leader is actually a complete retard and he let Soul Reapers sneak into Hueco Mundo, where they will (and this is just an assumption) rape the women, steal the children, and outright kill everybody else. They are currently on their way to Las Noches to begin their Crusade of Terror.

I repeat, WE. ARE. ALL. GOING. TO. DIE.

My friend and I got the news this morning from Nnoitra's _fracción, _Tesla, who heard it from his dickheaded superior, who heard it from _his _dickheaded superior. The rest of the day went a little like this:

After we got the news, my friend (who will from here on out be referred to as "Pants") screeched and promptly fell over, unconscious. Like a good friend, I should have picked her up and either carried her to the nearest source of healthcare or waited until she came to. But I chose the high road and booked it, leaving Pants on the ground (now you see why I named her Pants).

I ran for a few minutes before stopping to take a break and think things through, making a mental check list of my highest priorities.

1. Pack everything you possibly can into one pillowcase.

2. Take a shower, because God knows how long until the Barbarians revoke our hot water privileges.

3. Sleep with as many men as you can before you die THIS IS YOUR HIGHEST PRIORITY, NOT #1!

4. Backhand the people you hate before you die (keep the pimp hand strong).

As I went on, I realized that my list had become increasingly ridiculous and promptly stop prioritizing. I was in the middle of formulating a fool-proof escape route when suddenly, I was struck with a terrifying realization. I screamed it out loud.

"AAAAAHHH! I FORGOT SERGEANT SASSY BASKETS THE DESTROYER!"

Sergeant Sassy Baskets the Destroyer is my dearest pet; a little Hollow-puppy that for some reason follows Yammy around like _he's _his owner. Bitch please.

I bumped Sergeant Sassy Baskets' rescue to the top of my priorities and used _sonido _to haul ass back the way I came. As I frantically worried about the condition of my canine companion, I ran into a now-conscious Pants.

"Desz, what in the hell just-"

"OUTTA MY WAY, PANTS!" I bellowed impressively. Apparently, in the time of crisis, it's physically impossible to speak in anything but obnoxiously loud yells, screams, or the like.

I continued on down the spacious hall, leaving my friend in the dust.

"Wait…My name's not Pants?"

~xXx~

I slowed down considerably once I reached Yammy's part of Las Noches. It was dark, clammy, and smelled like feet. I hated it, and wanted nothing more than to get out of there as soon as I could.

"Sergeant Sassy Baskets?" I called out tentatively. "Are you there, boy?" After a few tense seconds of waiting, there was a familiar click of nails on tile and my beloved pet trotted into view, stumpy tail wagging. He barked in what I assume was his version of a greeting. "Sassyyyyy! Come here, sweetie!" He galloped over and jumped at my leg with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. While I bent down and scratched his ears lovingly, the floor shook in so violently I thought there was an earthquake.

Nope, it was just Yammy.

"Huuuuh? Who the hell are you?" he drawled in his stupid voice. Sassy Baskets barked animatedly as his pseudo owner stepped into viewing distance. "You that stupid mutt's owner?"

I stood up with a dark snarl on my face, my tiny dog held to my chest. In the midst of an inter-dimensional crisis, I wasn't in the mood to be second-guessed by someone on the same evolutionary level as a caveman.

"No me gusta!" I yelled, _sonido_-ing away as fast as I could. I'm pretty sure Yammy was still standing there like a dope 10 minutes later, drooling away as he tried to figure out what just happened.

I dropped by my room really fast in order to shower, pack, and prepare for some serious boning and bitch-slapping. But Fate suddenly decided to take a wicked axe to my plans. All throughout the compound, warning alarms screamed out, signaling that "_holy shit, they're inside of Las Noches."_

That's it. I was out. Grabbing my pillowcase in one hand, Sergeant Sassy Baskets the Destroyer in the other, I leapt out the nearest window, fell a few (dozen) stories, stuck into the sand like a stick. Fucking sand. I was trapped at least a foot deep in scorching, white soil and it was beginning to seep steadily into my shoes and cling to my bare legs. You know, because it's a desert. And it's hot out. Therefore, I wear a pair of black shorts riding on the border of inappropriate.

Anyway, I was covered in sand, there were soul-reaping demons invading my home, and son of a bitch I WAS COVERED IN SO MUCH GODDAMN SAND. Yet another thing I hate about Hueco Mundo. Sand. Aaaaaall over the place. Nothing quite as annoying as having grainy little particulates stuck all over your body, refusing to come off without something liquid, like water. How ironic.

I finally freed myself, emptied out my shoes, and , luggage in hands, set off for the sanctity of Hueco Mundo.

Farewell, all!

-Desz Belleking, an Arrancar


End file.
